


The Pertinence Of Fear

by Wikiaddicted723



Category: Fringe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-30 08:01:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wikiaddicted723/pseuds/Wikiaddicted723
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say fear is what keeps you alive. Olivia Dunham is not so sure. Coda to 6B</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pertinence Of Fear

They say fear is what keeps you alive, right now she’s not so sure.

 

She lies on her side, her head on the hand she’s kept resting underneath her, supporting her as she stares at the man lying in front of her, his brow smooth in sleep, his rhythmic breathing music to her ears. She aches to touch him, run her fingers over his flesh for the thousandth time that evening, if only to reassure herself that she’s not dreaming, but she dares not wake him; dares not break the spell that has fallen over them in the silence of the house, their private refuge from the horrors that assail them. She matches her breathing to his own, mimicking the easy rise and fall of his chest, making feather – light patterns on the hand he’s kept on her waist in his sleep, a gesture so like him that it takes her breath away and makes her smile into the darkness of the room. With it he says ‘I’m here’ as he has always been, he says ‘stay with me’ afraid that she won’t want him, he says ‘I’m sorry’ failing to notice that she’s already forgiven.

 

But his hand is not tight around her, neither encasing nor demanding, allowing her an easy escape from his grasp that she would not think of using. She has only just realized that it has always been so, that this innocent touch says more about their relationship than any amount of words she could think of saying. He has always given her the space, the independence she so craves, watching from the sidelines, stepping in when she needs him to without a word, catching her when she falls, when she thinks she doesn’t need saving. She thinks, in the darkness and the silence, that much could have been avoided if she’d acted on her feelings sooner, if she’d not been afraid of giving the broken pieces of her heart to him, so that he could keep them safe. She has learned, in the short hours before this moment, a truth so simple that it should’ve been obvious; but then the obvious, what we take for granted, is what slips from our minds the easiest.

 

There’s always two sides to a coin, a limited amount of ways it can fall as it touches the ground, but it is only when we stand from the edge and see them both that we allow ourselves to see beyond our own reality, our own pain. So she stands on the edge, and basks in the glow of the love he’s given her.

 

She’s come to accept that she did have a part in their fallout, just as he had; that he’s been as hurt as she has with what’s happened, and though she knows she probably will never forget she has made it her mission to forgive. Forgive him for not noticing, forgive herself for not looking outside her wounds, for not seeing his pain. There was still a long way to go, a lot of burns to salve, but right now she felt that it was worth the pain, because being with him, whole at last, was indeed beautiful.

 

She stops resisting him, presses herself closer to him, trying to get to every inch of his sleeping form, rests her forehead against him, on the hollow between his chin and chest, feeling the heat he radiates in waves as it bathes her, the steady beating of his heart reverberating through her, her wandering hands drawing senseless figures on his shoulders, his back. He tightens his hold on her in slumber, his hand splayed against her back, and she allows him to, a small, content smile grazing her lips as she presses a kiss against his chest. His heart flutters then and the rhythm in his breathing breaks, and she knows he has opened his eyes, can feel his sleepy stare as it bores through her.

 

“Hey,” he whispers, smiling, his tongue heavy with sleep as he runs his fingers through her back.

 

“Hey,” she gives back, looking up at him as he brings his other hand to brush the hair that has fallen on her face. They’ve never needed more than a few words and a look to say thousands of things in a span of seconds, that was one thing that hadn’t changed, and she hoped it never would. She kisses his chin lightly before bringing her head back down to rest on his chest, her ear pressed above his heart. There are no words for this moment, for they have already said everything there was to say with their bodies, the mingling of their breaths in the cold night air.

 

She feels him shower the top of her head in kisses, his movements slow, lethargic, and she wishes for this moment to go on forever.

He pulls her head away from him softly, kissing her nose lightly before bringing her lips to his.

 

“I love you.” He whispers, merely a breath in the night, partially startling her. Her body stiffens for a moment before it manages to relax against his once more; she doesn’t doubt him, she can feel the sincerity in his voice and the way he looks down at her, and the little voice in her head reminds her that she’s never been good at this, reminds her of what happened the last time she said those words back, and she’s afraid for a moment. She stares back at him, panicking when she sees the faint, tell – tale glimmering expand itself over him, making her dizzy; she screws her eyes shut, letting out a rattling breath against his neck, and he brings his other arm around him, hugging her tightly against him as he sighs against her hair.

 

“You don’t need to say anything back, ‘Livia, I just wanted you to know…” he keeps quiet after that, defeated, but knowing how hard it is for her. He decided a long time ago that he would wait for her as long as was necessary and he’s not backing down, not when he’s so close. He rubs circles into her back with warm hands until he feels the tension on her back go slack in measured steps.

 

“Sleep,” he tells her, resting his head on her shoulder, feeling her breathing as it evens out. Her final thought before she lets sleep claim her clears her head of any doubts she might have had, because she realizes that if this moment is her last she cannot let it all go to waste; This time she won’t be late.

 

“I love you, too…” she murmurs, knowing that he’s heard her by the way his heart seems to stop and his breath hitches, her lips tickling his chest as they form the words. It’s the first time in months that she manages a full night’s sleep.

 

She has learned, in the short hours before this moment, a truth so simple that it should’ve been obvious:

 

They say fear is what keeps you alive, but to Olivia Dunham, fear is what has kept her from living.


End file.
